Danger in the Shadows
by AmberLS123
Summary: Sequel to the movie. Basil of Baker Street's powers are tested to their limits in his most challenging case yet. Rated for violence.
1. Ch 1: Reunion

Danger in the Shadows

Chapter 1: Reunion

Dark storm clouds gathered on the horizon, and the thunder rumbled in the distance, announcing the arrival of yet another storm. The residents of London, humans and mice alike, had been cooped up in their homes for the past three days due to the rain.

One of the many mice who suffered from cabin fever was Dr. David Q. Dawson, who resided at 221½ B Baker Street. He sat awaiting the arrival of his friend and colleague, Basil of Baker Street, the famous Great Mouse Detective. Basil was away working on a case, and Mrs. Judson, the landlady, was busy in the kitchen, so the doctor was alone in the sitting room. Reclining in the green armchair across from Basil's red one with his feet propped up on the footstool, he glanced at the clock and yawned for the hundredth time. Normally, he would have gone along with the detective; but since his old war wound had been giving him trouble these past few days, Basil insisted he take a well-deserved rest, so Dawson reluctantly obliged. Dawson had attempted to occupy his time by reading the newspaper, but it contained nothing of interest to him. He even tried to take a nap, but his thoughts kept wandering back to the case at hand. Basil had been working himself to death over it, and frankly, the doctor was concerned for his friend's health. However, whenever he brought it up, Basil would give his typical reply that he was perfectly fine.

Soon after the rain began again, Dawson looked up as he heard three taps on the front door. _Who could that be?_ the doctor thought as he got up stiffly to open the door. Thinking that the visitor must be a client, he began, "Hello, Basil isn't here at the moment, but-" He paused as he saw middle-aged mouse and a young girl standing by his side, and his surprise soon turned to joy. "Mr. Flaversham!" he exclaimed, shaking the mouse's hand warmly, "So wonderful to see you! And Olivia also!"

"Hello, Dr. Dawson!" the girl said, hugging him tightly.

"Hello, my dear. Why, the little girl I remember is now a lovely young lady! Here, come in out of this dreary weather."

"Thank you, Doctor," said Flaversham as Dawson took their coats and hung them up to dry. "We've just arrived in London, and Olivia was so eager to see you, I thought we'd visit for a moment. I do hope we're not intruding?"

"No, not at all," Dawson replied happily. "Basil isn't here at the moment, but he should be arriving shortly. How have you been?"

"Very well, thank you. It was nice to return to Scotland, but after a while, Olivia and I grew homesick for London. And so, I've decided to reopen my toyshop."

"That's wonderful news!" Dawson exclaimed. "It's such a delight to have you back."

A moment later, they heard someone open the front door, and the three turned to see Basil of Baker Street standing on the threshold, dripping wet from the rain. Despite the scowl on his face, he was a rather comical site. The detective was soaked from head to tail, and his deerstalker cap drooped down almost over his eyes. "Confound this dratted weather," he mumbled as he shrugged out of his soaked Inverness cape. As he tossed his hat and coat onto a suit of armor rather than the coat rack to dry, the breath was almost knocked out of him as Olivia ran and threw her arms around his waist. "Basil!" she squealed with joy.

Of course, Basil was very surprised to see the little girl. "Miss Flemmingshawl…I mean, Flanger…um…" he stammered.

"Flaversham!" she corrected.

"Whatever," Basil said rolling his eyes. "What are you doing here?"

Olivia giggled; she didn't think he would ever be able to pronounce her name correctly. "Daddy and I are back from Scotland and came to visit! I missed you."

Basil then noticed how much she had grown; the last time he had seen her, she was no taller than his waist; now, she nearly came up to his shoulders. Basil wasn't accustomed to such outward displays of affection, but the truth was, he was just as delighted to see her as she was to see him. "I-I'm glad to see you, as well," he said with a smile as he returned the hug.

A few minutes later, they were all sitting in the living room. Basil sat in his favorite red armchair, his long legs stretched out towards the fire. Dawson resumed his seat in the chair opposite him, and Flaversham and Olivia shared the sofa. Mrs. Judson brought in some tea and a plate of some of her delicious cheese crumpets, crying with joy as she was reunited with Olivia.

They were all soon warmed by the fire and enjoying each other's company. It had been nearly three years since Basil had rescued the toymaker and his daughter from the clutches of his arch nemesis, Professor Ratigan. After being away from each other for so long, they were happy to be amongst old friends again.

The conversation soon turned to Basil's work. As a private consulting detective, he remained busy helping others, whether it be someone who came to him over a private matter, or the police asking for his help when they came to a dead end, which occurred more frequently than they would have cared to admit.

"Were you working on a case today?" Olivia asked Basil eagerly.

"Yes," the detective replied. "I was helping the police round up a gang who attempted to rob Harper's Jewelry store."

"But you stopped him," Olivia said proudly.

"Yes," said Basil with a smile, "although it took a little longer than I imagined. The ringleader proved to be a rather cunning adversary. But if Inspector Grayson had taken my advice to begin with, we would have caught him sooner."

"It was Simmons?" Dawson asked.

"Of course it was Simmons! There was never a doubt in my mind from the beginning." Basil puffed away on his pipe, blowing rings of smoke into the air. As a doctor, Dawson didn't really approve of all the smoking, but he stubbornly continued the habit, stating that it helped him to think.

"You must be busy," said Flaversham. "Your fame has spread even to Scotland. Olivia and I both enjoyed reading Dr. Dawson's account of your cases."

"I'd be lost without my chronicler," replied Basil, smiling at Dawson. "But things have actually been rather quiet as of late. There are always petty thefts and such, but organized crime has declined since…Ratigan's death." He hesitated at the mention of his deceased enemy. Although it had been a while since the incident, it was still a sensitive topic, for all of them. Basil had foiled Ratigan's plans to take over the kingdom, and things came to a head on top of Big Ben, where Ratigan lost his footing as the clock tolled loudly and he fell to the streets below; but Ratigan's hatred for Basil drove him mad, transforming him into a raging monster. Basil had sustained several injuries from the rat's claws in the ensuing fight, and had barely escaped with his life.

Dawson cleared his throat and hurriedly attempted to change the subject. "Well, now that things have quieted down, at least you can rest. You shouldn't work yourself so hard," he cautioned.

"I'm not!" Basil snapped. Seeing Dawson's hurt expression, his tone softened. "Sorry, old fellow. I know you're only trying to help, and I appreciate your concern." He seemed to hesitate, as if debating whether to continue. "The truth is, I'm afraid to let my guard down. And I do have reason to be extra cautious. I believe that I've been watched these past few weeks."

"What do you mean?" Dawson asked.

"You know by now how I'm always aware of my surroundings." Dawson nodded, and Basil continued. "Do you recall the recent forgery case in France? During our investigation, I noticed a certain mouse following us on three different occasions. I didn't say anything because he never approached, and didn't appear to be a menace; but I noticed him standing on the corner of Baker Street on Monday, as if watching me."

"You mean he followed you here to London?" Flaversham asked concernedly.

Basil shrugged. "It appears that way. But I'm certain that it's the same mouse. I haven't seen him up close, but a large scar extends across the right side of his face, making it easy to identify him."

"Perhaps there's no need to be too concerned," Dawson said hopefully. "If he were dangerous, I think he would have approached by now."

"There are several explanations," Basil said as he relit his pipe, "but I have no data, and it is a capital mistake to theorize before one has all the facts."

"It biases your judgment," Olivia spoke up. "Right Basil?"

"Exactly-" Basil's pipe nearly fell from his mouth as he stared at the girl. "Wait, what?"

"If you don't have enough evidence, you begin to make up facts to fit your theories, instead of theories to fit the facts. You said it yourself," she said hastily, blushing as everyone stared at her. "During one of your cases, the one about the emerald ring. Remember?"

"Why, yes…Yes, I suppose I did." Basil shook his head incredibly. "And you remembered that?"

"Of course! I learn a lot from reading Dr. Dawson's accounts of your cases. You also say, 'When you have eliminated the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.' "

Basil chuckled and actually blushed slightly. "Miss Flamberham, I'm…I'm flattered…that you've taken such an interest in my methods."

Olivia's eyes sparkled with admiration for her role model. "I want to be a great detective just like you someday," she said genuinely.

"Well," Dawson said, "that won't be a difficult task for such a bright young lady as yourself. Just think, we may be in the presence of Scotland Yard's first female Inspector. Eh, Basil?"

"Perhaps," the great detective replied with a wink at Olivia, causing her to giggle.

**Author's note: This will be a pretty long fanfic, and I hope this first chapter gets you interested, although i know this scene was pretty calm, but it will get more suspenseful and dangerous with lots of twists and turns! Reviews are welcome! =D**


	2. Ch 2: A New Threat?

Danger in the Shadows

Chapter 2: A New Threat?

The next day, Basil lounged in his favorite red armchair, and soft notes drifted from his violin throughout the house. As he scraped away at the instrument, his thoughts began to wander.

He practically had the house to himself. Mrs. Judson was away visiting relatives, and Dawson was still away checking up on one of his patients. Basil smiled to himself. Good old Dawson. Always concerned about the wellbeing of others. He grimaced as he thought of how harsh he'd been towards the doctor yesterday when he snapped at him for suggesting that he take a break. After all, Dawson was only concerned for the health of his friend. He had often told Basil that he was pushing himself too hard, which was probably true. Basil had been known to go days without food or rest when hot upon a fresh scent during a case. But because of his desire to help others, Basil had dedicated his life to detective work, and he always placed his clients needs above his own.

Thinking of the Flavershams returning to London, Basil smiled. He was happy that the little family was doing well. After all they had been through, they deserved it.

The Flaversham case had been the highlight of Basil's career. After years of trying to capture Ratigan and put an end to his criminal regime, Basil had finally defeated the Napoleon of Crime. As a result of spoiling the Professor's plans to eliminate the Queen and take over the kingdom, as well as freeing Flaversham and saving little Olivia's life, Basil's reputation had increased dramatically. In the beginning, people had looked to Basil often as a last resort, and because he could clear up almost any mystery even when the police had abandoned it as hopeless. Now, they often came to him even before going to the police, especially since Dawson had began publishing accounts of his cases. Scotland Yard itself often requested his assistance, and even Inspector Grayson, who at first had been rather skeptical of Basil's powers of deduction, often came to the great detective for his advice.

But to Basil, the best things that had come out of the Flaversham case were the lifelong friends he had made. He had always been a sort of social misfit. Certainly, throughout his short career, he had helped countless mice with whatever problems they brought to him, but he had never developed a close relationship with any of them; they were only clients. However, the same could not be said of Dawson, nor the Flavershams.

Ever since she had shown up on his doorstep, Basil had begun to develop a sense of protectiveness toward Olivia. And, he admitted, she had grown on him. Since he'd saved her life along with Flavershams, her father had felt very grateful to Basil, and they also became friends. Basil was still in awe at what Olivia had said the day before. Here she was, a young girl of only about twelve years old, and she had more sense than most of the force of Scotland Yard.

And Basil didn't know what he would do if it weren't for Dawson. He was a bit muddleheaded at times, and Basil had often grown annoyed with him; but he was always helpful, willing to do whatever Basil asked, even if it involved risking his own life. A large part of Basil's fame came from Dawson publishing accounts of his cases. Although Basil sometimes remarked that he embellished them too much and did not focus on the more important facts of the actual case, he greatly appreciated Dawson's support and friendship.

…...

As Basil reflected while continuing playing the violin, Dawson was strolling down Baker Street. The doctor had established his own medical practice just down the street, so the walk was not far. It had been a long day; Dawson had more appointments than usual, and it was almost dark when he had finally locked up. As he was walking, he pulled out his pocket watch to check the time. Looking down, Dawson wasn't watching where he was going, and he accidentally bumped into a mouse standing by a streetlamp. But before Dawson could apologize himself, the mouse muttered, "_Pardonez moi_, _monsieur_." And, keeping his head bowed, he hastily walked across the street. Of course, the doctor didn't think much of the incident, and continued on his way.

However, as he drew closer to home, Dawson glanced across the street and noticed that same mouse walking in the same direction as he. He hadn't gotten a good look at him before; but now, with a start, Dawson noticed the large scar on the right side of the mouse's face. It extended from the base of his ear across his cheek and down to his chin, and had turned the corner of his mouth up, making it appear as if he was always snarling. Remembering what Basil had said yesterday, Dawson quickened his steps, not wanting to confront this unsavory character alone.

Minutes later, Dawson arrived at 221 ½ B Baker Street and took the keys out of his pocket. As he unlocked the door, he glanced behind him and saw the mouse loitering across the street, leaning against the side of the opposite house and looking down at the ground with his hands buried in his coat pockets. Dawson finally got the door open and let out the breath that he hadn't realized he'd been holding, and was thankful that he was finally home.

Still lounging in his chair by the fire, Basil's eyes were closed as he continued playing his violin.

"Basil?" Dawson asked as he removed his coat.

"Mm?" Basil replied, eyes still closed.

"That fellow you mentioned yesterday, the one you thought was following you…what did you say he look like?"

Basil opened his eyes and looked at Dawson questionably. "I didn't get a close at him, but he's thin, an inch or so taller than I, and has a large scar on the right side of his face."

"From his ear to his chin?"

Basil sat up and leaned forward eagerly. "Have you seen him?" he asked excitedly.

"I believe so," Dawson replied. "I bumped into him as I was walking, and now he's lurking about the house across the street."

Basil jumped up from his chair and looked out of the window cautiously. "I don't see him."

"What?" Dawson exclaimed. He joined Basil at the window. Sure enough, the street was empty. Dawson shook his head. "He was there a moment ago…"

"I don't doubt it," Basil assured him as he resumed his seat. "Did he speak to you?"

"When I bumped into him, he said, '_Pardonez moi, monsieur_.' "

"Interesting," Basil said thoughtfully, taking his pipe from the mantle and lighting it.

"Then he's French?"

"That's very possible," Basil replied. "After all, I did first notice him during that forgery case in Paris."

"I suppose I shouldn't be influenced so much by outward appearances," Dawson said sheepishly. "After all, he hasn't caused any harm. Perhaps he's only a client working up the nerve to ask us for help; he may feel a bit reluctant because he's a foreigner in an unfamiliar place."

Basil smiled to himself. Dawson always looked for the best in people. "Who knows?" he replied with a shrug. "But we'll keep an eye out for him all the same."

**Author's Note: So, added a little hint of danger. Should this mysterious Frenchmouse be considered a threat? Only time will tell.**


	3. Ch 3: A New Case

Danger in the Shadows

Chapter 3: A New Case

Over the next few days, whenever they ventured outside, Basil and Dawson kept a watchful eye out for the Frenchmouse. However, several weeks passed, and he wasn't seen again. But the two had learned from experience to never let their guard down.

One early October morning, Dawson had just finished a delicious breakfast and had settled into his chair to read the newspaper. However, Basil hadn't joined the doctor because he was busy at a table in the corner of the room conducting an experiment. Dawson often remarked on how unhealthy it was for Basil to go without food, but it was Basil's belief that the energy required to digest his food would be better used elsewhere.

Whenever Basil wasn't working on a case, he often grew melancholy and depressed. Basil had remarked to Dawson that during these periods of inactivity, his mind was like a racing engine tearing itself to pieces. And so, to keep from going mad with boredom, Basil had to find other means of occupying his mind. One of these included playing his beautiful Stradivarius violin. He was an excellent musician, and could even compose his own pieces. Dawson could often tell what sort of mood Basil was in just by listening to him play the instrument. It was also a time when the detective most seemed at peace, and he would pour his soul into the music. The only drawback to this was that Dawson would sometimes wake up at two or three in the morning to hear Basil still scraping away upon the instrument.

Another method Basil used to eliminate boredom was by _indoor_ target practice. He had destroyed nearly all of poor Mrs. Judson's pillows, so he resorted to shooting the initials "M. R." into the wall.

Basil would also conduct chemical experiments as a means of passing the time. He had always been an excellent chemist, one of the top students in his classes at the university. Nevertheless, once or twice Dawson had to fling open the windows in order for the fumes to escape so that they all didn't choke to death.

Dawson laughed to himself. It was a wonder that Mrs. Judson hadn't thrown Basil out on the street years ago. However, despite the detective's eccentricities, her tenant had grown on her, and she cared for him as if he were her own son. Although she and Dawson much preferred when Basil played the violin. But alas, today Dawson had come downstairs to find that Basil was already up and about, with his sleeves rolled up as he was busy mixing some noxious chemicals in the various beakers and test tubes.

About an hour later, Dawson looked up from the morning paper as a soft knock sounded on the front door. He opened the door to reveal a lovely lady, wearing a simple light green dress and matching hat. Dawson smiled as he recognized her. "Why, it's Miss Abby Lockhart! Or Mrs. Kingston, rather. Come in, come in!"

The lady smiled pleasantly. "Thank you, Dr. Dawson. I was afraid you wouldn't remember me."

Dawson smiled also. "No, I haven't forgotten, my dear. Basil, do you remember Miss Abby?"

"Mm-hmm," Basil replied without turning around. He was so immersed with his experiment that Dawson wondered if he actually heard his question.

Almost three years ago, Basil had recovered Miss Abby's stolen emerald ring from a daring thief, who turned out to be a master of disguise that was once a member of Professor Ratigan's organization. It had taken place within a week after the Flaversham case, and was Dawson's second case with Basil. Since then, Miss Abby had married a well-known banker, Harold Kingston.

As he helped the lady out of her coat, the doctor inquired, "How have you been? I trust you and your husband are doing well?"

"Yes, we are, thank you," she replied. A shadow passed over her beautiful features. "That is, we were. That's why I've come here. Some things have happened, and we're at our wits end what to do."

Basil's ears pricked up at this, but he remained bent over his test tubes and burners. Dawson cleared his throat. "Basil, you have a guest."

Basil waved his hand, which was stained from handling the various chemicals. "Yes, yes- I'll be with you shortly."

Dawson looked to Mrs. Kingston apologetically. Basil's social skills- or lack thereof- were appalling at times.

After disappearing into the kitchen for a moment, Basil finally greeted the young lady. "My apologies, Mrs. Kingston," he said, inclining his head. "I was just cleaning up the remains of a rather messy experiment," he explained, gesturing towards the table with a now clean hand.

"Oh, it's quite alright, Mr. Basil," Mrs. Kingston said with a chuckle. "There's no need to apologize."

Dawson smiled. As far as he knew, Basil had always been a bachelor, and he harbored a strong distrust of women. Nevertheless, he could be a perfect gentleman…when he wanted to, that is.

After everyone was seated, Basil remarked, "I take it something of a sinister nature occurred last night, and you wish to consult me about it."

She looked incredibly at the detective. "Why, y-yes, but how you could possibly have known that is beyond me."

Basil smiled and explained, "It's simple really. Only the lower two buttons of your boots are fastened, meaning you left home early this morning rather hurriedly. And, if I remember correctly, you still reside in Hampstead, which is a good distance from here. Something significant must have happened last night or very early this morning for you to have left home so early."

She smiled prettily. "Well, yes, you're right. I came here because Harold and I need your help. Of course we immediately sent for Scotland Yard, but I remembered how you used your extraordinary powers to locate my missing emerald ring, and I knew that if anyone could help us, it was you."

Although he would never admit it, Basil was very susceptible to flattery, and he smiled at the visitor's compliments. "Oh, it was elementary, madam. Now, how can I be of assistance?"

After the lady took a sip of tea in order to help clear her voice, she began her story. "Last night, Harold and I went to bed as usual around ten. Everything was very quiet, and we both fell asleep quickly because we'd had a long day. But around two o'clock, I heard a strange noise, as if someone was moving around in the next room. I'm a much lighter sleeper than Harold is, so I woke him and asked if he heard anything. We sat very still, and a few moments later, we both heard the same bumping noise again. Harold told me to stay there, and after taking the revolver from the side table drawer, he got up and crept out of the room. I sat there as he asked, praying that nothing was amiss. Then I heard more noises, as if there was a struggle, a shot rang out… and then a several bloodcurdling screams... And as suddenly as it started, all was quiet. I was so frightened that at first I couldn't move. But I was scared that something had happened to Harold, so I got up and quietly stepped out into the hall. The screams also woke the staff downstairs, and they met me in the hallway. We all went to his office, which is right beside our bedroom, and turned on a light. The room was a mess; papers were strewn everywhere, and a lamp had been knocked off a side table. But Harold…h-he was lying on the floor…c-covered in blood." By now the poor lady was trembling at recalling the tragic events of the night.

"Good heavens!" Dawson exclaimed. "You don't mean…"

"No, he is still alive, thank heaven…but barely. It looked as if a…a wild animal had tried to maul him to death. He had just gained consciousness right before I left this morning."

"Did they take anything?" Basil asked quietly.

"No, that's what I don't understand. Why would someone do such a horrible thing? Harold has no enemies…h-he wouldn't hurt a fly…" unable to continue, Miss Abby broke down and began to sob quietly. Dawson rose and gently tried to console her.

Basil sat back in his chair, his eyes half closed as if deep in thought. Moments later, he said, "I think the best thing to do is to visit the scene of the crime. Would you be objected to our coming right now?

"Oh no, Mr. Basil," Miss Abby replied. "I had hoped you would come right away."

"Then we will make all haste to Hampstead."

Before leaving however, Dawson quickly went to his room to fetch his trusty revolver, something he always carried on an investigation. He had learned from experience that it was best to be prepared should the worst happen, especially concerning the nature of this particular case.

* * *

**Author's note**: **Those first two chapters were mainly for a bit of background, sort of setting the stage for the story. Now Basil finally has a case to solve and we'll move on with the story. Miss Abby is a character from my story, "The Case of the Emerald Ring" and also the lady at the end of the movie. The thing ****The thing about Basil's indoor target practice is a reference to Sherlock Holmes, except he would use the initials "V. R." for "Victoria Regina," which I think stands for "Victoria Reigns" ? Someone correct me on that if I'm wrong :) So anyway, I think the mouse queen in the movie's name was Queen Mousetoria, so I figured Basil would shoot "M. R."**

**UPDATE: Hi guys. After much debate, I have decided to re-write this chapter. The only major difference is that in the first one, Harold Kingston was only slightly injured, but now, with the way I see the story going in future chapters, I decided it'd be better for him to be more seriously injured. And I also changed it to where they were NOT robbed. Hopefully it'll make sense later when I upload more chapters ^^**

**I know, my author's notes are always long...=)**


	4. Ch 4: The Investigation

Danger in the Shadows

Chapter 4: 

An hour later, Dawson and Basil met Inspector Thomas Grayson of Scotland Yard at the scene of the crime while Miss Abby awaited downstairs. The doctor and the inspector looked on as Basil examined the room in his systematic way. Grayson still thought the detectives ways to be quite eccentric, and although they had butted heads with each other in the past, the inspector welcomed any help the amateur detective could give to the Yard.

Whipping out his magnifying glass from his pocket, the detective got down on his hands and knees to examine the floor, which was horribly splattered with blood. He went over every inch of the room, paying special attention to the window. They also followed as he examined the grounds below outside. The staff of the house was also questioned thoroughly, and they all gave basically the same story as Miss Abby; they had heard screaming in the middle of the night, rushed upstairs to see what was the matter, and found poor Mr. Kingston lying in a pool of blood in his office.

After some time, Miss Abby asked hopefully, "Have you found anything, Mr. Basil?"

"Not much, I'm afraid," he replied. "Judging from the length of his stride, the culprit is very tall. The window is obviously the point of entry, which also means he is very agile, as there is only a rusty pipe along the wall. Robbery wasn't the motive, since they didn't take anything. Does Mr. Kingston have an enemies?"

"Not that I know of."

"Then I'm afraid I won't know any more until I've had a chance to speak with him myself. You said he gained consciousness just before you left. Did he say anything about what happened?"

"No. He was just very frightened; I've never seen him in such a state. And he hasn't spoken since."

"Well, I'm sure you'd rather be by his side right now. Rest assured I will do all in my power to find who did this."

"Thank you so much, Mr. Basil, Dr. Dawson," she said, the recovered emerald ring sparkling on her finger as she shook their hands. "We'll sleep all the better knowing you're on the case."

After the lady had gone, Basil turned to the Inspector. "Did you happen to get a look at Kingston's wounds? I didn't mention it while the lady was here for fear that it would frighten her more."

"I only got a glimpse," Grayson replied. "But that was enough. Deep, bloody gashes covered his whole body, as if someone had tried to rip him to shreds. It's a wonder the poor mouse survived."

"What of the weapon?"

"That's the thing, Mr. Basil," Grayson answered nervously. "The doctor that had arrived said that the wounds weren't made by a knife, or any other such weapon...they were claw marks."

Dawson gasped at this information, but Basil remained as impassive as ever.

Grayson shook his head as he continued. "When the newspapers get wind of this, the public will be in a frenzy, knowing that there's a wild, murderous criminal on the streets."

"Then we must get him off the streets as soon as possible," Basil replied.

As Basil and Dawson left the Inspector to finish his investigation, Basil said, "You go on to Baker Street, Doctor. I have a few inquiries of my own to make." As the two friends parted ways, Dawson noticed that Basil was absently rubbing his scarred arm.

…...

Later that evening, Dawson looked up as his friend entered. "This is a dark business, my dear Dawson," Basil remarked as he grabbed his pipe from the mantle. "It appears that Kingston has no apparent enemies; everyone I've spoken with has only good to say about him."

"So since robbery wasn't the intent," Dawson said, "it appears we have a deranged killer on our hands."

"It appears so," Basil replied. "I only hope we can stop him before he strikes again."

* * *

**Author's Note: Wow, 3 chapters in 4 days...I'm on a roll. ^^ This chapter seems a lot shorter too...oh well. I'm ready to move on to the good stuff. **

**So, do we have a deranged killer in the midst here? Or is there something even more sinister? **

**You'll just have to wait and see =)**


	5. Ch 5: Another Victim

Danger in the Shadows

Chapter 5: Another Victim

Unfortunately, Harold Kingston was not the monster's last victim. Two days later, Basil and Dawson received a telegram from Inspector Grayson requesting their presence at another crime scene. A young lady had been found in an alley covered in wounds similar to Kingston's; but unfortunately, she did not survive the attack.

Dawson shook his head sadly as he examined the body, the victim's face frozen in an expression of pure terror. What pain she must have been through. But the likely cause of death had been a deep gash on her head. From the pattern of blood all around the area, it seemed that she had been thrown against the wall, the impact shattering her skull.

Basil and Inspector Grayson had already questioned those involved. Two mice on their way home from working at the docks had heard screaming nearby, and following the source of the noises, found the young woman's body. One of them ran to find a police officer while the other had stayed with the body. But it had been too late to save her.

Although her face had been slashed several times, she was still able to be identified as Miss Violet Gladstone. Dawson gasped at this news. "Didn't her parents hire you when she was kidnapped and held for ransom?" he asked the detective.

Basil nodded solemnly. That had been soon after the Flaversham case. "Two attacks within three days…" he remarked quietly.

"Now wait just a moment, Basil," said the inspector. "She could very well have been attacked by a cat or something. These things happen all the time."

Basil wheeled around upon Grayson. "A cat's claws would cause infinitely more damage. At the very least, limbs would be missing. Yes, cat's are known to play with their food, but then they eat it. Besides, Inspector, do you see any traces of a cat around here? No, it was something, or someone, smaller than a cat."

Grayson shook his head in frustration. "You're suggesting she was killed by the same person who attacked Kingston?"

"Yes," Basil replied. "The nature of the wounds and the footprints around the area are the same."

"So we apparently have a crazed madman on the loose," Grayson said running his hands through his disheveled hair.

"No," Basil remarked thoughtfully, "on the contrary, a very intelligent madman. Despite the ferocity of these attacks, he's been very careful not to leave any traces of himself. Also, mad killers will target anyone on the street. So why would he take the trouble to climb up a rusty drainpipe to Kingston's second story window? No, there must be something that links Kingston and Violet together."

Grayson sighed. "Well, what do we do now?"

"Question Miss Gladstone's family. Find out everything you can about her; her habits, her friends, anything that may be of use."

"And what will you do?"

"Find that missing link."

…...

Over the next month, five more mice were mauled to death: Quentin Browning, who's son's murder Basil had investigated; Terrance Donovan, a banker whom a few years earlier had been robbed of thousands of pounds; Owen Tanner, whose jewelry store had been robbed some months ago; Amelia Walpole, who's missing husband Basil had helped to locate; and Margaret Wilkinson, who's husband had been the ringleader of a gang of smugglers. Newspaper headlines blared with reports of a mad killer roaming the streets, preying upon innocent citizens. Needless to say, Mousedom was thrown into a state of mortal terror. Mice hurried about their business by day, casting nervous glances over their shoulders, and no one dared to be in the streets alone at night.

Each murder that Basil and Dawson investigated was the same. The unfortunate victim was found covered in bloody gashes, with virtually no sign of the culprit.

One day, Dawson had just left his medical practice and was heading home towards Baker Street. He didn't meet many others on his way, as everyone was afraid of the killer. But out of the few other pedestrians, he recognized one.

It was that same French mouse with scar he had seen several weeks ago. He was following him again! This time, though, Dawson was determined to confront the mouse. Instead of going directly home, he turned onto another street, wondering if the mouse would still follow. He did. Dawson then went into another side street, hoping he could cut off his follower and confront him. But when he came out on the other side, the mouse was no where to be seen.

Dawson sighed and turned to go back to the main road. It was growing dark, and he needed to get home. But as he did so, he nearly stumbled over something lying in his path.

_What on earth? _He thought. _That wasn't here a minute ago, was it?_

As he knelt down to examine it, he discovered that it wasn't just an object; it was a person. Looking closer, he also noticed a small amount of blood. Turning the body over, Dawson nearly jumped out of his skin. He suddenly noticed the worn scarf around it's neck… the torn ear…the wings…the peg leg...

_It was Fidget. _

* * *

**Author's Notes: Another short chapter. Hope y'all are liking it so far. Hope it's not too boring. Don't worry, we're building up to the good stuff.**

**So...anybody know what the link is between all the victims? I'm not gonna tell right now of course, but I'm curious of what y'all think =)**

**Also...See Quille? I told you Fidget would be in it! ;D**_  
_


	6. Ch 6: Fidget's Story

Danger in the Shadows

Chapter 6: Fidget's story

Dawson was shocked at the sight in front of him. He had assumed that the crippled bat had perished when Ratigan had thrown him off his dirigible and into the Thames. It was a miracle he had survived, especially with a peg-leg and a crippled wing.

The doctor was at a loss of what to do. Of course, he was repulsed at the sight of their old foe. After all, Fidget was the one who had kidnapped Olivia's father, and later Olivia herself. Yet, surely he couldn't in good conscious just walk away and leave Fidget in the state he was in.

Dawson gathered up the small bat into his arms and once again headed home towards Baker Street. _Basil's going to kill me for this_, he thought. But he was just going to bind up Fidget's wounds properly, then, hopefully, send him on his way with no trouble. Besides, if Fidget had been attacked by the same one responsible for the recent murders, he could have information that would be invaluable to the investigation.

The doctor entered their flat quietly so as not to disturb Mrs. Judson. Goodness knows what her reaction would be. He then laid Fidget on the sofa and turned on the lamp on the side table to look over his wounds.

Here in the light, Dawson could see that the bat's wounds weren't as bad as he had first imagined in that alleyway. There were three scratches across his left cheek, and several more on his wings, as if he had held up his arms to shield himself from his attacker.

As he finished patching up the bat's wounds, Fidget's eyes fluttered open, and suddenly, with a cry of terror, he sat up and latched onto Dawson.

"D-D-Don't let it get me! Don't let it get me!" he cried as he buried his face in Dawson's shoulder.

"I-It's alright…you're safe…" Dawson said, attempting to pull Fidget off of him.

Although he was clearly terrified, Fidget looked up at the sound of Dawson's voice and released him. "H-Hey, I know you!" he said with his raspy voice. "You're with that Basil of Baker Street…" Looking around frantically, Fidget edged away from the doctor. "W-Where am I? I d-didn't do nothing'!"

"No, everything's alright!" Dawson assured him. "You're not in trouble. I brought you here because you were hurt."

Fidget then noticed the bandages for the first time, and seemed a bit confused that Dawson would help him. But as he remembered how he had received those wounds, he began to tremble.

Dawson sat on the sofa next to him. "What happened to you?" he asked quietly.

"I-I-It was horrible…" Fidget said with a gulp. "I was just walkin', mindin' my own bizness, an' this…this _monster _jumped out at me…I-It was big…a-an' had glowin' yellow eyes-"

At that moment, Basil himself entered the door. The detective froze as his gaze fell upon the figure on the sofa. Then his eyes narrowed at Dawson.

"What…is _he_ doing here?"

"Now now, Basil," Dawson said defensively, standing and putting himself between Basil and Fidget, "Just let me explain…"

Basil crossed his arms, a dangerous glint in his green eyes. "I'm all ears," he replied.

After describing the circumstances of how he found Fidget, Basil forgot his anger and focused his attention on the bat. "You saw your attacker?" he asked eagerly. "Tell me everything you can remember. Even the slightest details."

Fidget gulped. "I-I was walkin' down the street, took a shortcut through that alley on my way home, w-when I sees this tall black shadow. I got scared, s-so I turned around to go back, but he grabbed me and trapped me against the wall." The poor bat trembled even more as he recalled what had happened. "I-It was h-h-horrible…" he moaned. "I-I begged 'im to let me go…I-I told 'im I was s-sorry for happened that night…"

Basil leaned forward eagerly. "You knew him?"

The poor bat nodded frantically in response. Basil knelt down in front of him and placed both hands on his shoulders. "Fidget, I need you to tell me. This could very well be the one responsible for all these murders. I need a name."

Fidget's terrified brown eyes met Basil's emerald ones. "_R-Ratigan_," he whispered.

* * *

**Author's Note: So, for all you Fidget lovers...Yay! Fidget makes an appearance! =D And I mean come on, what else was Dawson supposed to do? He's too sweet to just leave poor Fidget in an alleyway. 3**

**But before you shout "I TOLD YOU SO!"...did Fidget really get attacked by Ratigan, or is this just the ramblings of an crazy, peg-legged bat? After all, he probably did bump his head pretty hard from that fall into the Thames... Just something to think about... **

**I've never written Fidget before...so hope I kept him in character ^_^**

**Also, thank you guys so much for your wonderful reviews! They always make my day and I really appreciate them! Although I did disable anonymous reviews there for a little bit because of trolls, I have re-enabled them (is that even a word? =P ), cuz I felt guilty because some of you don't have an account and it's not really fair and it makes me feel like they won. So from now on, I'll just delete any troll's comments and just ignore them =)**

**Eh, sorry my author's notes are always so long...I can get longwinded sometimes... =)  
**


	7. Ch 7: Insanity

Danger in the Shadows

Chapter 7: Insanity

The doctor and the detective sat in shocked silence for several moments as Fidget rocked back and forth on the sofa. Images from the Flaversham case flashed through their minds, particularly of the crazed rat atop Big Ben; and for the second time in the past few weeks, Basil found himself involuntarily rubbing his scarred arm, while a dull pain throbbed in his back.

Dawson shook his head. "Ratigan…alive…?" he whispered incredibly.

Basil quickly replaced the initial shock on his face with his usual impenetrable mask of reason. Though he very sincerely doubted that the Professor could have survived a fall from that height, he needed to know exactly what Fidget had seen. "Fidget, are you absolutely sure? What did he say to you?"

Fidget glanced up at the detective with what appeared to be an expression of complete confusion. "What did who say to me?"

Basil blinked. "What…? R-Ratigan…" the name left an unpleasant taste in his mouth. "What did Ratigan say to you?"

"I…I don't know what you're talkin' about."

Now Basil's temper began to rise. He walked swiftly to the fireplace and pulled out a portrait of Ratigan from behind the framed newspaper article of him and Dawson being thanked by the Queen, then stormed back to the sofa. "_Padriac_ _Ratigan_!" he emphasized, pointing to the grinning rat in the picture. "The Napoleon of Crime! You just said that he attacked you!"

Upon seeing the portrait, Fidget's eyes grew wide. "No!" he yelled, shrinking away from Basil. "No, no, no, no! Don't let 'im get me!"

As Basil shook his head in frustration, Dawson stepped in. "It's alright," he said, putting an arm on Fidget's shoulder. "You're safe here…"

As the doctor attempted to calm him, Fidget gasped suddenly and looked around the room frantically. "W-W-Where am I? What's goin' on?" Before Dawson could answer, Fidget's gaze fell upon Basil. "Hey, I know you…you're that nosy 'tective…"

Basil and Dawson glanced at each other, neither liking the dangerous glint that came into the bat's eyes.

Noticing the bandages on his wings, Fidget glared at Dawson. "What did you do to me?" he growled.

Dawson held his hands up defensively. "I-I found you in an alleyway…you were hurt, and I brought you here to help-"

"I know whatcha' doin' " Fidget interrupted, the light from the fireplace reflecting in his crazed eyes. "You brought me here to _him_," he gestured at Basil, "and now yer gonna turn me in."

Before either could react, Fidget suddenly leapt at Basil, causing him to fall on his back. Basil suddenly found himself gasping for breath as the bat's hands locked around his neck. But as he saw Dawson go for his revolver, the bat jumped off of Basil, and ran across the room.

"You'll never catch me, you stupid 'tective!" he yelled, flinging the door open. He then ran outside, his maniacal laughter echoing into the night.

Dawson helped Basil to sit up as he gasped and coughed, filling his aching lungs with air. Basil shrugged the doctor off and stumbled to the door, but the crazed bat was long gone. Basil pounded his fist against the doorframe in frustration. The one possible lead to the numerous murders had slipped right through his fingers. "Another dead end," he murmured.

"I'm sorry, Basil," Dawson said quietly. "I should have run after him…but I was afraid-"

"Not your fault, old boy," Basil assured him. "I don't think either of us were quite prepared for that reaction." He sank into his favorite red arm chair gratefully as Dawson sat in the green one opposite him. "Have you ever come across anything like that in your medical experience?"

"Not quite," Dawson replied. "I've dealt with traumatic head injuries which resulted in severe brain damage, but I'm not a specialist in that field, so my knowledge is limited. It is possible that Fidget could be suffering from some sort of memory loss, as a result of being thrown from Ratigan's dirigible and into the Thames. The impact could very likely have caused some damage to his brain." Dawson watched as the detective lit his pipe. "Basil?" he asked. "Do you…do you really think Ratigan is indeed alive?"

Basil sat deep in thought for several minutes. "Rats have been known to survive a fall from about 15 meters, but seeing as Big Ben is over 96 meters tall, there is absolutely no possible way he could have survived falling to the ground below. It's also impossible for him to have fallen into the Thames as Fidget did, since Big Ben sits well away from the river." He looked as if he was about to add something else, but decided against it. "No," he said, shaking his head, almost, Dawson noted, as if he were trying to reassure _himself_. "It is very, _extremely_ improbable for him to still be alive."

"So…Fidget's claiming to see him is a result of his madness."

Basil nodded. "Most likely."

Dawson sighed. "What do you think really happened to him?"

"Who knows?" Basil shrugged. "He could have been attacked by thugs, or anything, and have no memory of it. Though I doubt our murderer is the culprit, as Fidget is obviously still alive. We shall just have to hunt for clues elsewhere."

* * *

**Author's Note: Heh heh heh, I just LOVED writing this chapter! I had Dory from Finding Nemo in mind while writing this ^_^ Yep, it appears poor Fidget has gone off the deep end...looks like he bumped his poor noggin harder than we thought =(**

**So...I hope what Basil said about Ratigan made sense. I'm not trying to put down people who have used those methods of saying Ratigan survived...It's just not for me. I hope I don't offend anyone. *Although IF and I mean _IF_ I do decide to bring Ratigan back in some story...I think I have a pretty good theory for how it could be possible... ;)  
**

**And I know these chapters seem to be getting shorter...I probably should have combined these last two about Fidget. But as you've probably already figured out, I really LOVE cliffhangers =D**

**Also, thank you so so SOOOO much for all the reviews! I do greatly appreciate them! 3**


	8. Ch 8: Nightmare

Danger in the Shadows

Chapter 8: Nightmare

Despite the strange events of the day, Dawson quickly drifted off to sleep, though his dreams were plagued by images of that maniacal little bat. But suddenly the doctor awoke to the sound of a loud _thump_! He quickly threw off the covers and grabbed his revolver from the drawer on his bedside table, and quietly opened his bedroom door.

As he tiptoed down the hall, Basil's door opened, and the detective stepped out, muttering curses under his breath as he tied the belt of his purple dressing gown around his waist.

"Basil!" Dawson whispered. Basil looked up, and seeing that Dawson was armed, lifted an eyebrow in surprise. "I heard a noise, a loud bang," Dawson explained quietly.

"Oh, um…" Basil stuttered, closing his door behind him. "Th-That was me. I uh…I-I stubbed my toe against the…the thing…"

Dawson sighed in relief, though he wondered at Basil's strange behavior. "Oh," he replied. "I thought it might have been an intruder."

"Sorry to disturb you, old fellow," Basil apologized. "Everything's…fine."

He couldn't see his face in the dim hallway, but from his tone, Dawson could tell that Basil was slightly embarrassed. "It's quiet alright," he replied with a yawn. "Well…goodnight then."

As Dawson headed back to bed, Basil sighed wearily and went downstairs, and fell into his red armchair. He felt a bit guilty because what he told Dawson wasn't exactly what really happened. In reality, the loud _thump_ was the sound of his body hitting the hard floor as he rolled out of bed from tossing and turning in his sleep.

Basil had first begun having nightmares right after the incident on Big Ben; but as time passed, they had gradually disappeared. Now, they were back. He could only account for the dream because of Fidget showing up the past evening. The memories of the Flaversham case that had resurfaced must have been what triggered them again.

In the dream, he'd been reliving that night on top of Big Ben. The dream was slightly different from what had actually happened, but horrifying nonetheless. He shuddered as bits of the dream flashed through his mind.

Lightning flashed through the sky, the cold rain drenching Basil from head to foot. He was running along the hour hand of Big Ben, trying to escape the clutches of his greatest foe, Professor Ratigan. But no matter where he ran, the rat was always there, yellow eyes glowing and razor sharp teeth bared. He snarled, swiping at Basil several times with his black claws. Basil cried out in pain as the claws raked his face, back, and arm, the blood staining his torn clothes. Ratigan grabbed him by the throat, and laughed in his face. "I've won!" The rat's maniacal laughter echoed as he threw Basil off the clock tower. Basil screamed as he fell through the mist, closer and closer toward the cobblestone streets below… just as he was about to hit the ground, Basil awoke, tangled up in the bed sheets and head smarting from the impact of hitting the floor.

Basil rubbed his temples, frustrated with himself for letting a simple dream disturb him so. This is ridiculous, he though angrily. That was in the past. Ratigan is gone now, and there's no need to dwell on it any longer. It was only a dream, and nothing more.

What he needed was a distraction. Basil reached for the Stradivarius violin by his side and began to play a slow, quiet tune so as not to wake anyone else up.

However, the doctor was still awake. While he lay in bed, he heard the low plaintive notes of the violin. He was suspicious that Basil was hiding the fact that he still had the nightmares, but he saw no need to bring such a sensitive matter up. But he still wished he could do something to help. A few minutes later, Dawson finally drifted back to sleep to the melancholy sounds of the detective's violin.

* * *

**Author's Notes: Yay! I've FINALLY updated! =D I did shorten it from the original version...A LOT...but I have a reason, and I promise I'll use the other parts for another chapter later. I can definitely relate to Basil having nightmares. I've been having a lot of them here lately. :( But one of them is actually the inspiration for a later chapter of this fic, so I guess that's good. **

**Anyway, I know I've neglected this fic for a good while now, but I had a breakthrough today, and I now have the next 10 or so chapters planned out completely. Yep. TEN! This is gonna be a REALLY long fic... I just hope I'm not dragging the story out too much ^^;**

**Oh yeah, here's an illustration I did a LONG time ago for this chapter :D .com/gallery/28068205#/d32wp0e**


	9. Ch 9: Revelations

Danger in the Shadows

Chapter 9: Revelation

Dawson awoke the next morning and found Basil at the front door speaking with a distraught Officer Hawkins from Scotland Yard. As Basil turned to him with a grim expression, Dawson knew; the killer had struck again. As Basil hastily pulled on his coat and hat, Dawson quickly followed suit and they headed out the door.

Hawkins explained that a security guard had just been found dead at Lloyd's Bank just down the road, and a considerable amount of money- around £1 million - missing. Dawson shuddered to think that the crime had happened so close to home. They met Inspector Grayson at the entrance of the building and followed him to the scene of the crime. Even with his iron constitution from his days in the service, Dawson felt his stomach turn as Grayson lifted the sheet from the victim's face. The body was a bloody mess, covered in the same deep gashes as the other victims. His face was so distorted that the only means of identifying him was an identification card in his inside pocket: Phillip Knightly.

Dawson shook his head sadly. Not long ago, Knightly had been falsely accused of being an accomplice in a robbery of this same bank, but Basil had proved his innocence. And now he had met a grisly end while doing his duty. One more on the list of this killer's victims. One more devastated family whose husband and father would not be coming home.

That same grim expression remained on Basil's face as he examined the scene. Blood on the floor, Knightly's discharged weapon and other signs of struggle indicating he had tried to fight his assailants, several safes that had been forced open, a small scrap of cloth that had snagged on a jagged edge of one of the destroyed safes. After questioning the owner of the bank and speaking briefly with Inspector Grayson, Basil and Dawson returned to Baker Street. Basil immediately went to work at his chemistry table to study the cloth he had found, and Dawson sank down in his chair wearily. He decided to look over the newspapers and police reports of the crimes of the past few weeks, trying to find some link, some clue, to help stop this villain.

Basil grunted and slammed his fist down on the table in irritation, causing several test tubes to clank together, before making his way to the fireplace where he lit his pipe and began pacing back and forth across the room.

Dawson shared his frustration. Their only witnesses were Fidget, who could be anywhere, and the first victim Harold Kingston, whose condition had worsened. "So," Dawson sighed, shifting through the papers scattered at his feet, "the only thing we know for certain is that all the victims were killed in the same manner… no discernable pattern other than that the crimes all occurred at night… the victims are basically mauled to death… How any sane person can commit such atrocities I'll never understand. But there must be something else, some clue… anything!"

"There is," Basil stated.

"There is?" Dawson repeated quizzically.

"Of course," said Basil matter-of-factly. "Don't you see it? One other factor that links all these crimes together. Think for a moment, Doctor. What is the one thing that all the victims have in common other than the method in which they were attacked?"

Try as he might, Dawson couldn't come up with the answer. "I haven't the foggiest."

Basil placed his hands on Dawson's shoulders and looked him the eyes. "Dawson, how is it that we know these people?" "Because they… they've come to us for help." Dawson gasped at the realization. "Great Scot, they're all past clients."

The detective nodded slowly.

Dawson pondered for a moment. "Whoever is behind all these crimes… could they specifically be attacking them as a means to get at you?"

"It is a great possibility," Basil nodded gravely. "Which also means that anyone who has come to us in the past for help is in mortal danger- Ah!" Basil gasped suddenly and jumped back as if he had been shocked. A look of horror crossed his face for an instant, and was next replaced by anger. He ran his hand through his disheveled hair and nearly cursed. "I am such an idiot!" he hissed. "Quickly, Dawson!" He dashed for the front door, stirring up the papers scattered on the floor and nearly knocking a side table over in the process.

Perplexed, Dawson asked, "Basil, what in the world-?"

"There's no time, lives are at stake!" Basil shouted as he flung the door open and ran outside.

Dawson followed as quickly as he could, although he had no idea what had caused Basil so much distress. When Dawson stepped outside, Basil had his fingers to his mouth, whistling shrilly. A few seconds later, Toby ran around from behind the building and skidded to a stop just inches away from them. The detective immediately leaped up onto the dog's back. "Come on, we've not a moment to lose!" he yelled as he reached a hand down to the doctor. Dawson was surprised at Basil's strength as he pulled him up with hardly any effort. As soon as he was seated behind Basil, Toby took off.

Basil used the dog's collar to steer Toby in the right direction, although Dawson couldn't even begin to guess where they were headed in such a hurry. He tried to question Basil as to their destination, but the detective didn't seem to hear him. He only muttered over and over, "I'll never forgive myself if anything's happened…never…" He dug his heels into the dog's sides, urging him to go faster. Dawson shut his eyes tightly, feeling as if he would be flung off Toby's back at any moment. "No, we're too late!" Dawson heard Basil cry as they rounded a corner. He pulled hard on the collar, causing Toby to slow down. The detective leapt from Toby's back before he had come to a complete stop and sprinted forward.

Dawson finally opened his eyes, but was almost blinded by the sudden brightness. Although the day was almost spent and it was growing dark, a fire that was rapidly consuming the building in front of him lit the night sky an eerie, glowing red-orange. "Stay, Toby," Dawson said breathlessly as he slid off the dog and rushed after Basil.

At first, Dawson didn't realize where they were, since he had kept his eyes closed for most of the ride. But then, his heart sank as he saw the broken sign hanging from the doorway of the burning building.

_Flaversham's Toy Shoppe_.

There were several mice already at the scene of the fire, and Dawson ran to where Basil was interrogating one of the firefighters. To Dawson's surprise, Basil grabbed the unfortunate mouse by the collar and yelled, "You mean they're still inside?"

Before Basil could question the poor fellow further, three mice emerged from the flames carrying another soot-covered mouse between them. As they took him a safe distance away from the fire, Basil and Dawson ran to them.

"Flaversham… is he alright, Dawson?" Basil asked worriedly.

As he examined the toymaker, Dawson nodded. "He has a few minor burns, but he'll live."

"Thank heavens-" Basil began, but he was interrupted as Flaversham came to. He coughed and tried to sit up, then began struggling frantically.

"It's alright, Flaversham!" Dawson said, attempting to calm the frightened toymaker. "It's me, Dr. Dawson, and Basil. You're safe now."

"No!" Flaversham cried. "Y-You don't understand! Olivia! I-I must find Olivia!"

Dawson gasped and Basil's face grew pale. "She's still inside?"

"I-I don't know!' he said, tears streaming down his cheeks. "I was searching for her, but I-I must have fainted…I…I must go back!"

"Don't worry, Flaversham, we'll save her- Basil? Basil, what are you doing?"

The detective had jumped up and was sprinting directly towards the burning shop. He was lost to view as he ran through the door into the inferno.

* * *

**Author's Note: I am soooo very sorry for the incredibly late update on this story. It's only been, what, 6 or 7 months? But seriously, thank you guys for being so patient. Now that "Echoes" is finished, I will be focusing on this one, so I'll do my very best to keep it updated much more often **

**So... we have a bit of a breakthrough (although several of you saw it already... took Dawson a little longer to figure it out) So NOW you know why I brought Miss Abby back from my "Case of the Emerald Ring." Knightly, the guard at the bank, is a character from another fic I had planned on writing, but never got around to. And I don't remember if I've mentioned Stephen Hawkins in this fic yet, but if not, he is another OC of mine and is based off of Stanley Hopkins **

**And of course I just had to leave you on yet _ another _ cliffhanger. The poor Flavershams just can't get a break can they?**

**So will Basil be able to reach Olivia in time? Why is this villain attacking Basil's past clients? For revenge? Who is the villain and what is his game?**


	10. Ch 10: The Inferno

Danger in the Shadows

Chapter 10: The Inferno

For one terrifying moment, Basil stood frozen in place. The smothering black smoke, the searing heat, the red-orange flames destroying everything in their path; every detail reminding him of that horrible night of his parents' deaths… He was unable to move, nearly overwhelmed with the memories that threatened to take over his acute mind. It was the small sound of a child's cry in the distance that brought him back to his senses.

"Olivia!" he called out, ducking under the smoke. "Olivia, where are you?"

"I-I'm in here!"

"Hold on!" Basil replied, hastening in the direction her voice came from. He quickly removed his cravat and placed it over his mouth and nose so he could breathe easier. Carefully climbing over destroyed furniture and toys and dodging falling debris from the ceiling, Basil made his way into a room at the back of the shop.

"Up here!" Olivia called. "Th-the steps are gone!"

Basil took in the scene with horror. The stairway leading up to the second story had been completely destroyed. He looked around for another means of reaching her, but there was nothing, and the flames were growing wilder and the smoke thicker by the second. There was only one alternative.

"Olivia…" Basil instructed. "You have to jump!"

"W-What?!" the girl cried.

"You must jump, it's the only way!" Basil insisted, holding out his arms just as he had the night he had lifted her up to safety on Big Ben. "I'll catch you!"

"B-Basil, I… I-I can't…!" she stammered fearfully.

"Yes, you can!" Basil encouraged. "You can do it Olivia! I promise I won't let you fall!" As she still hesitated, he glanced around frantically at the advancing flames. Then an idea struck him. "Just imagine you're jumping off of Toby's back, like you did the night we were searching for your father. Remember?" Basil sighed with relief as she nodded slowly. "Good, good! Now I'm going to count to three, alright?"  
"O-Okay," she replied.

"One…"

Olivia took a few steps back to get a running start, still trembling with fear.

"Two…"

She closed her eyes, trying to imagine the scene Basil had suggested. She placed all her trust in her hero, not doubting him for a moment…

"Three!"

With that, Olivia flung herself over the ledge, leaping outward as far as she could. Basil grunted as he caught her, the force knocking him onto his back and causing the air to whoosh out of him as his head struck the floor.

"Basil? Basil are you alright?!" came Olivia's frantic voice through the haze of pain.

"Y-yes, I'm fine," he replied, staggering to his feet. "Now let's get out of here."

As the flames grew larger and larger, Basil quickly swooped Olivia up into his arms as he looked for a way out…

…

As the time passed at an agonizingly slow pace, Dawson grew more worried and could only watch helplessly as the flames consumed the shop. Smoke poured out the front door where Basil had disappeared, but the firefighters fought hard to extinguish the blaze. Several strangers also pitched in and did all they could to help. Dawson attempted to comfort Flaversham, who cried softly as he held his head in his hands. "My girl…" he moaned, "my poor little bairn…"

Finally, after several agonizing minutes, Basil leapt through the flames out of the broken window, holding Olivia in his arms. He stumbled forward a few steps before collapsing to the ground, coughing and choking. Several mice ran to his assistance, and they took the girl from him and led them away from the burning building. Dawson ran to him to see if he was alright, but the brave detective waved him away, pointing to Flaversham and Olivia. "H-Help them," he said hoarsely.

However, Dawson put Basil's arm around his shoulders, supporting him as he lead him to back to sit beside of Flaversham and Olivia. The toymaker hugged and kissed his daughter while Dawson examined her, but miraculously she was unhurt; then Dawson noticed Basil's Inverness coat draped around her shoulders. Basil had wrapped her in his coat in order to protect her from the flames and to keep her from inhaling the smoke.

Dawson wished he had his medical bag with him so he could better help Flaversham, but in their haste, he hadn't thought to grab it. However, someone had sent for another doctor, and thankfully, he arrived within minutes. As the other doctor tended to Flaversham's wounds, Dawson tried to examine Basil, who continued coughing. But the detective protested, "I'm fine, Dawson, really." He then turned to the Flavershams worriedly. "Are…are they alright?"

"Yes, I believe so," Dawson answered. "A few minor burns, but nothing too serious. Mr. Flaversham, can you tell us what happened?"

"I'm not sure," the toymaker replied. "As I was closing the shop, something crashed through the window, and there was a loud explosion. I was dazed and disoriented for a few moments, but I realized that the building was on fire, so I rushed into the back of the shop to find Olivia. But the smoke must have caused me to pass out."

"Arson," Dawson remarked in shock.

"Of course it was," Basil replied almost snappishly. "And with all the other murders of my past clients…I should have known; should have seen this coming…" Dawson watched Basil with concern. The great detective only became this agitated when he had failed or made a mistake during a case; and this time he was being even harder on himself because the victims were personal friends.

Basil was pulled out of mentally berating himself when he felt Olivia tugging on his sleeve. Before he could react, she latched on to his torso and hugged him as she had done when she was younger. "Thank you," she said quietly, burying her face in his shirt.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Basil," Flaversham said gratefully. "Once again, you've saved our lives."

Basil only shook his head, too ashamed to even return Olivia's hug. "I only wish I had realized sooner… But, unfortunately, I did not sense the danger until almost too late." He hung his head sadly, wincing at the thought of what had almost happened to them. "I… I am truly very sorry for all this."

"But it's not your fault," Olivia replied, staring up at her hero with those big blue eyes of hers. Basil found that he couldn't even meet her gaze.

"Olivia's right, Mr. Basil," Flaversham agreed. "And if you hadn't come along when you did…" He trailed off, too overcome to finish the sentence.

"All that matters now is that you're both safe," Dawson said with a small smile. A few moments later, someone alerted them that a human was approaching, and all the mice relocated to a safer spot in an alley beside the building. Of course as the human passed they saw the fire, and after getting help they easily extinguished the small blaze before it could spread to the human residence above the Flaversham's toy shop, which was now destroyed beyond recognition.

Dawson glanced over at the little family sadly. Toby sat down beside them and lowered his head for Olivia to pet him, causing her to giggle and talk to him sweetly. _What tragedy this poor family has been through_, thought Dawson. _First the whole affair with Ratigan… and now this…_

"It's my fault," Basil muttered insistently, thinking the same thoughts as Dawson as he ran a hand through his disheveled hair while he restlessly paced back and forth. "I should have known this would happen…I could have prevented it…"

"We all make mistakes…" Dawson replied softly, placing a hand on Basil's shoulder, but he only shrugged it off.  
"My _mistake_ cost this family their means of living, and almost their very _lives_!" Basil hissed angrily. "I—"

"Mr. Basil! Mr. Basil!"

Basil rubbed his temples, feeling a migraine coming on. "Ooh, for heaven's sake, what is it _now_?" he growled irately.

He and Dawson turned toward the source of the voice and saw Stephen Hawkins from Scotland Yard sprinting down the street towards them. Skidding to a stop in front of them, the young officer bent over with his hands on his knees. "It's…it's awful," he said breathlessly, "j-just awful! I came 'round as …as fast as I could "

"Steady on there, Hawkins," Dawson said, placing his hands on the young mouse's quivering shoulders. "Now, tell us calmly and slowly; what has happened?"

Hawkins gulped. "It's… a-a prison break…"

Basil felt a chill run down his spine. "P-Prison break?" Dawson whispered in horror.

Hawkins nodded frantically, his eyes wide with fright. "O-Over fifty c-criminals have escaped from Dartmoor prison."

* * *

**Author's Note: Heh heh... so sorry for being so slow to update this... But inspiration struck and I just had to get this chapter down! **

**Yay, the Flavershams are safe! Poor things, they just have the most terrible luck :( And of course Basil's blaming himself for the whole thing because he thinks he should have seen it coming sooner... and now he's got even more on his hands with 50 criminals escaping... the majority of which probably have a grudge against him...**


	11. Ch 11: Unmasked

Danger in the Shadows

Chapter 11: Unmasked

Dawson stifled a yawn while he and Basil made their way back to Baker Street as the first rays of the morning sun were already breaking through the clouds, painting the sky a sinister crimson and orange. Tired, defeated, and worn, they trudged down the streets wearily, returning home after an unsuccessful investigation of the case of the escaped prisoners of Dartmoor. The number of prisoners far outnumbered the guards and so they were easily overwhelmed. A few guards had been killed in the scuffle, but no helpful clues could be found. The prisoners had vanished without a trace.

The doctor looked up at his friend concernedly as Basil ran his hand through his disheveled hair in frustration for the umpteenth time. As if having a deranged killer on their hands wasn't enough; the Flavershams had nearly lost their lives, his other clients were in danger, and now over fifty criminals that the great detective had fought hard to put behind bars were now free to roam the streets again. Basil walked ahead of Dawson wishing to be alone, head bowed with defeat and exhaustion, shoulders slumped as if weighed down by the enormous burden of this case.

Dawson opened his mouth to offer some words of encouragement when a loud clanging came from behind them, causing both mice to whirl around in surprise. They found that the source of the noise came from another mouse who had tripped and fallen into a dumpster against the side of a building and was hastily trying to climb out. As Basil and Dawson went over to get a better look, both froze in shock when they discovered that it was the French mouse with the long scar and twisted snarl, the one who had appeared to be watching them several weeks earlier. As soon as he realized he'd been spotted, the mouse clambered out of the bin and fled the moment his feet hit the pavement.

"After him!" Basil shouted, sprinting after the figure. Poor Dawson did his best to keep up but soon fell behind. Fighting fatigue, Basil moved as fast as his legs could carry him. He was amazed at the other mouse's speed and worried that he would soon get away. But Basil knew this city like the back of his paw and could walk through it blindfolded, so he swiftly cut to the right and took a side alley where he knew he could go around and cut off his target. Sure enough, as the mouse rounded the corner he collided smack into Basil, causing both to tumble to the ground. Anger and frustration fueling him, Basil quickly gained the upper hand and pinned the French mouse to the ground.

"I don't know who you are or what you want," the detective growled, speaking in French, "but I do know that I'm growing tired of having a shadow tagging along behind—"

Basil froze as he noticed the long dark brown curly hair that was sprawled out on the ground under the mouse as the cap that normally hid the face lay nearby, along with several bobby pins that must have held the hair up scattered about them.

"_You,_" Basil breathed, staring at familiar golden brown eyes that glared up at him defiantly, struggling in his strong grip.

Dawson finally caught up and ran over to Basil, panting heavily. "W-Well done… chap," he congratulated, out of breath from the chase. "You got him!"

"Ugh, you got me alright! Now get off, y' stupid—!"

Dawson stared in shock at the mouse, whose voice had grown higher in pitch and sounded more feminine though with an irritated edge to it. With his cheeks burning from embarrassment at his predicament, Basil hastily removed himself from the mouse, who stood and brushed off the dirt from their coat sleeve.

"I never thought you would show your face here again," Basil finally remarked, his voice low and eyes cold.

"Well nice to see you too," the newcomer replied with a wry chuckle, removing what appeared to be plaster and makeup from their face, causing the deformed scar to disappear.

Now that the facial features were more clear Dawson stared dumbfounded, his mouth gaping open. "You…you're a… a-a woman?"

"And you must be the charming Doctor Dawson," the lady mouse replied, shaking Dawson's hand with a cheerful smile. "Such a pleasure to meet you. I'm Charlotte Hampton."

"Oh… you're _that_ woman," Dawson answered, glancing at Basil who glared at him agitatedly.

"So Bas has told you of me?" Charlotte replied, smiling cheekily at the detective.

"Don't call me that," Basil muttered under his breath.

Charlotte stood with her hands on her hips. "You're not still bitter about the whole 'Big Ben Caper' thing, are you?"

"Why would I be?" Basil retorted. "You only lied to me, stuck a needle in my arm, and left me unconscious handcuffed to a sewer grate. Once Inspector Grayson finally found me I was the laughing stock of Scotland Yard for months."

The playful smile disappeared from Charlotte's face, her ears lowering at each accusation. "I told you, I only did it to protect you," Charlotte whispered, burying her hands in the oversized pockets of her coat. Basil cringed inwardly, almost wishing he could take back his words. He hadn't forgotten the note she had left in his pocket, able to recall it word for word. It still didn't ease the hurt and guilt in his heart after she had gone.

"I-I know," Basil replied quietly, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just… I wish you had trusted me. I could have helped you."

"You know better than I do what that rat was capable of," Charlotte countered. "If you had tried to protect me he would have killed us both long ago. The only way I could escape him was to disappear from the world. I… I couldn't live with myself for risking your safety. The world still needs Basil of Baker Street, after all."

Basil nodded. _But I need you…_

"Besides," Charlotte added with a small grin. "I can take care of myself. I always have."

Basil couldn't help smiling in return, but it disappeared as soon as he saw Dawson, who was grinning knowingly at the two younger mice. Feeling himself begin to blush, he glared at Dawson before clearing his throat.

"Getting back to the matter at hand, just why have you been stalking us the past few weeks anyway?"

"For one, I was afraid of your reaction to my sudden return," Charlotte admitted, shuffling her feet. "And two, there's a rumor floating around that…" As she trailed off Basil was surprised at the hint of fear that crept into her eyes.

"What?" Basil urged, putting his hands on her shoulders, eager for the least hint of a clue to help in the case. "What rumor?"

Charlotte shook her head. "We can't discuss it here in the open," she insisted, eyes darting around furtively.

"Baker Street then…?" Dawson suggested.

"No, especially not there. I'm not the only one who's been watching you." Charlotte whispered something into Basil's ear, and he nodded silently. Dawson casually inched closer, straining his ears to hear but soon she pulled away. "Follow those instructions to the letter, and then we can talk," Charlotte continued. Basil nodded, watching as she tucked her hair back up and replaced the cap. Before she turned to go he called after her.

"Charlie?"

Charlotte turned around, her heart warming using the nicknames they'd had for each other since they were kids. "Yes?"

Basil opened his mouth, but suddenly found he didn't have the words. Blustering, he finally muttered, "Just be careful."

Charlotte nodded. "You do the same. And I really am sorry," she added. "For everything."

"Me too."

Basil continued to stare in the direction she disappeared to until he felt Dawson nudge him. Looking down he saw the same knowing look. "What?" he snapped.

"Nothing," Dawson answered, still smiling. "I was just thinking, you two make a good couple—"

"Oh come off it, old man," Basil grumbled, as he pulled up the collar of his coat, stomping off out of the alley and into the street. Dawson followed, panting at trying to keep up with Basil's brisk pace.

"I guess you don't care to tell me where in the world we're going?"

"Baker Street," Basil replied. Dawson looked up in confusion.

"But I thought—"

"We won't meet up with her again until tonight," Basil explained. Dawson sighed in relief, hoping he might finally be able to catch some shuteye.

Once they reached Baker Street and he had downed a quick breakfast, Dawson practically fell onto the sofa, almost asleep before his head even hit the pillow. However he found his nap cut short as something hit him in the face. Pulling the thing off, he saw Basil rummaging in an antique trunk nearby and tossing random articles of clothing over his shoulder, one of which had sailed across the room and landed on Dawson, disrupting his slumber.

"Ugh, what the devil are you up to now?" Dawson groaned, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

"Well we can't very well show up at the Rat Trap in our normal clothes!" Basil replied over his shoulder, suddenly in a little cheerier mood. "It'd be suicide for Basil of Baker Street and Dr. Dawson to enter such a criminally oriented place, they'd have our heads on a spit."

Plopping back on the couch tiredly, it took Dawson a moment to register what Basil had just said. Once it dawned on him he struggled upright. "Oh no," Dawson said, put up his hands in protest. "Have you forgotten what happened last time?!" Dawson felt his cheeks burning in embarrassment at the memory. "I felt like a…like a complete scoundrel! An absolute disgrace!"

"Please, Dawson," Basil said with a roll of his eyes, not turning from his task. "I'm sure you're not the only mouse to have been bewitched by the charms of those lovely showgirls, especially after having imbibed so much alcohol."

"How was I to know those drinks were drugged?!"

"I tried to warn you," Basil pointed out.

"Still," Dawson said adamantly, folding his arms, "there is nothing you can do that will make me don that ridiculous sailor disguise again."

"No need to worry, my dear Dawson," the detective said with a mischievous grin as he tossed another article of clothing to Dawson. "I have something else that is much better suited for you."

….

* * *

**Author's Notes: What devilry is this? An update?! Apologies (again) for taking so long with this story... it's only been what, a year and a half since the last chapter? ^^;**

**But yay, Charlotte's here! I've been really excited to finally reveal that yep, the stalker mouse from earlier chapters was her. Meh, kinda some spoilers for "A Tangled Web" but not too revealing... although once I do finish that story hopefully it'll make more sense... sorry to be so vague, that's what I get for updating stories out of order. But yeah, my version of "The Big Ben Caper" that Ratigan eludes to in his song in the movie will take place in "A Tangled Web" ^^**

**Even Dawson already ships them XD**

**But yeah, escaped criminals, a serial killer on the loose... what else could go wrong? I guess we'll find out at the Rat Trap in the next chapter XD**

**But seriously, I'm warning you now... in about two chapters, things are about to get a LOT worse... mainly for Basil Don't hate me D:**

**Basil and Dawson (c)Eve Titus and Disney  
Charlotte Hampton (c)Me**


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